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back!”
    Main lens: low-light, zoom in. J.B. heading down a dark, decrepit stairway into some blackened, garbage-strewn junkyard hell of a basement. Minuteman cop with stripes coming into the stairwell waving his arms around. J.B.’s already blabbing into her mike, “This is Joi Bang for WHAM! Independent News. Is it true, Sergeant, that you’ve found yet another victim in the series of mutilation cannibal killings that Minuteman Security Services seems unable to crack?”
    “Get the hell outta here!” the sergeant shouts.
    Another damn cloud of glinting gold blossoms into the air. No warning this time.
    Reverse and purge.
    * * *
    05-19-54/10:22:57
    “Well, heck,” the sergeant says. “It ain’t that bad. I mean, there’s only been three so far. Three bodies. And we’re workin’ on it. The detectives—”
    “Can we see the body?”
    “Yeah, it’s right over there.”
    * * *
    05-19-54/10:23:46
    Establishing shot, slow pan. Garbage-strewn basement, ancient pipes crossing the ceiling, graffiti and unsanitary-looking moisture covering walls. What’s left of the body is bloated and kinda greenish. Main lens: pull back and hold. Direct-view: close in and scan maggot-covered skull. Exposed bones. Quick thermographic sequence from the AZT microcam on his wrist.
    J.B. provides voiceover.
    Blah blah blah…
    “What you’re looking at is the third victim in a series of cannibal-mutilation style killings occurring within the Philly metroplex within the last month. So little of the body remains it’s hard to tell if the victim was male or female, or even human. Some of the bones look gnawed. Large portions of the cadaver seem to be missing—limbs, internal organs… at least they don’t seem to be anywhere nearby…”
    New voice, demanding, “What’s happening here! Who are these people! Sergeant! Sergeant!”
    Someone grabs Skeeter’s shoulder and tugs. He hears a whimpery exclamation from Sidewipe while staggering around in a half circle. The line to the damn Fuchi dish is wrapping around his ankles. Fraggin’ wackweed Sidewipe.
    Main lens: up-angle, broad view, sharp focus. Some big slag in plainclothes with a brass detective’s shield hanging out of his jacket pocket. Face mottled red with anger. J.B. steps up from his right, mike uplifted. Zoom in, split-screen.
    “I’m Joi Bang from WHAM! Independent News. Do you have any comment, Detective, on this latest in a series—”
    “This is a crime scene, dammit!”
    “Can you explain why Helter-Shutt Inc., Minuteman’s parent corporation, has called upon renowned metazoologist Doctor Marion Liss of the University City Science Center?”
    “How the heck should I know that ?”
    “Isn’t it true that numerous sightings of the metabeings called ghouls have been reported to Minuteman police within just the last week?”
    “What! Who—?”
    “Do the police intend to send out death squads in order to neutralize the threat posed by these creatures?”
    “Who says it’s ghouls, dammit!”
    “Are you suggesting, Detective, that some other metacreature is responsible for this series of cannibalistic mutilations?”
    “I didn’t say that!”
    “Then what are you saying. Detective?”
    “Slot it outta here! And now!”
    J.B. looks back toward the camera view.
    Dust the fraggin’ badge and be done with it.
    Damn scragging nithead biff.

9
    At six minutes past the hour of seven a.m., Enoshi Ken steps from the elevator and makes his way briskly down Teak Row, as the corridor is known, toward the suite reserved for his immediate superior, Bernard X. Ohara, member of the board of Kono-Furata-Ko Corporation and Chief Executive Officer of the KFK subsidiary, Exotech Entertainment.
    The day is hardly begun and already Enoshi is in a position he dislikes intensely, that of being behind schedule. Too well, he knows how swiftly small delays and other minor problems can mount and mount, till serious disruptions result. His job as Executive Chief of Staff to the CEO